


Your Eyes Have Their Silence

by forestgreen



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Coming Untouched, Erotic Photography, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Impact Play, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sadism, Shibari, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/pseuds/forestgreen
Summary: It takes skill to find the perfect moment and capture it forever, immortalizing it. The true challenge of photography. The art of it. Tim loves it.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 19
Kudos: 141
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RayByAnotherName](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayByAnotherName/gifts).



> Marry Kinkmas, RayByAnotherName! I hope you enjoy reading the story and that it does your lovely prompt justice.
> 
> Many thanks to my amazing beta-reader for her hard work. Since this is a mystery work, I'm not naming names, but you know who you are.

"So, Timbers," Jason says, and gives Tim a wicked flash of teeth that makes him want to duck under the dining room table for cover. "Help us settle a little bet here. Do you jerk off to the videos or is little Timmy incapable of raising to the occasion?"

"Jason!" Dick hisses, slapping Jason's hand with a loud smack. "I told you to let me handle it."

Jason rolls his eyes. "I'd have let you handle it, if you'd been willing to actually try to handle it. We're already done with dessert." He waves his tea spoon at the empty plates on the table. "And you've yet to ask. Did you even tell him why we invited him tonight?"

Tim's stomach churns and the delicious chicken tikka he just ate turns to stone in his belly. There's a tiny part of him that's hoping against hope that this isn't about _the videos_. Maybe they’re talking about other videos? Any other kind really.

Please, oh, god, please.

"Look what you did?" Dick scolds Jason. "He looks like he's about to pass out." He turns to Tim and gives him his best reassuring smile. The hundred percent patented Dick-Grayson-beaming smile that makes everyone melt and want to do whatever Dick asks. Tim isn't an exception. "It's alright, Tim. We aren't angry."

"Speak for yourself," Jason grouses.

That more than Dick's smile helps calm Tim down. Jason isn't angry. Tim has seen Jason's anger before. He has bled under its uncontrolled fury back when the other boy first came back. This isn't it.

"What videos?" Tim tries anyway. There's an off-chance that they are speaking about something else, and Tim isn't going to betray himself by volunteering information they don't have.

"You know," Jason says casually, waving his hands dismissively. "The videos of Dick fucking me. We found two cameras in our bedroom and two bugs. A bit of digging, a bit of hacking, and imagine our surprise to learn that instead of a peeping Tom we had a peeping Tim."

"Jason!" Dick hisses, and bangs his head against the table.

Tim's face burns with embarrassment, and cold sweat breaks down his back. He has to swallow down the desire to puke. They know. Of course they know.

Tim's going to die. Actually, that would be the perfect solution to his problems. Death. Right then. Where is an Arkham break-out when you need one? Tim could use a heroic death at the hands of some escaped rogues right about now. Surely that's not too much to ask, is it?

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says feebly.

"Tim, really." Dick levels him with an unimpressed glare. "We aren't angry. I mean, I _was_ at first. Then I was hurt, and then just—Why? And no, there's no bet we want you to settle." He scowls at Jason before turning back to Tim. "We just want to know why you would do such a thing?"

"And how long have you been doing it? I want to know that," Jason adds. "And, since it's my ass that's getting pounded more often than not, I also want to know who you've shared the videos with."

"No one!" Tim protests, offended. He'd never show those videos to anyone. They are _his._

"Alright, that's something," Dick says. "Now, why?"

"And how long?" Jason reminds them.

"I didn't mean to," Tim mumbles, unable to meet their eyes. "It wasn't intentional."

Jason snorts disbelievingly. "You put a bunch of bugs in our bedroom unintentionally? Come on, if you're gonna lie at least put some effort into it."

"It got out of hand," Tim admits. "But it didn't start that way. I—Remember the camera Bruce gave me for my birthday?"

"Yeah," Dick says.

"Hard to forget," Jason comments. "We all thought you were gonna elope with it and we’d only see you again after you went to Vegas and put a ring on it."

"I wasn't that bad," Tim defends himself.

It was the best camera Tim had ever seen. It still is. A bit of excitement is normal. Lucinda isn't just state-of-the-art, she is _beyond_ state-of-the-art. An experimental prototype with Kryptonian technology in it. How Bruce convinced Clark to share that with him is a mystery, but Tim sure as hell isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I—" Tim stumbles over the next part. How to explain it in a way that doesn't make him sound like a total nut job? "I have this... tradition?" More like a superstition really, but Tim isn't going to admit that. "The first photo I take with a new camera has to be of Dick." There, he said it. Let them mock him if they will. "It's stupid. I know," he hurries to add. It's better if he says it than if they do. "But my first photo ever was of Dick, when he was at the circus. My dad bought me a camera and I took it with us and..." Tim trails off. "It's a stupid tradition, I know."

"Weird, but like not too weird," Jason says. "That doesn't explain how you went from photo-camera-christening with Dick's gob to surveillance in our bedroom."

"You happen to like my gob." Dick shoves at Jason's arm playfully.

Jason's expression turns impish, a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth smirk plastered over his face. "I happen to like your cock, too. It even rhymes, but it's still not the same."

"You're going to pay for that," Dick grunts under his breath.

Jason's grin widens further. "Promises, promises, Dicky."

"Wait a second." Dick ignores Jason and turns his attention back to Tim. "Tradition implies repetition, and I know you own quite a number of cameras. Have you always christened them with a photo of yours truly?"

"Yes," Tim admits quietly. He scrapes the empty plate in front of him with his spoon, pretending he's getting the last bit of dessert out. Anything not to have to look at Dick.

"How come I didn't know about this?" Dick asks. "Shouldn't I know about this?"

As if things couldn't get any worse. "You—" Tim stops and tries again. "I—"

Arkham breakout now, please. But when have rogues ever been that accommodating?

"You can't know," Tim finally admits. "You didn't know back in the circus that I was taking your picture, or when you were Robin and I was following you. You didn't know then either. The best pictures are when people don't know. If they know, then they do weird faces and weird smiles and weird poses. It's meant to look good and it does, but it's not... it's not _them_."

"You took pictures of Dick when he was Robin?" Jason asks, surprised. "How old were you? Two?"

"Nine," Tim corrects him, piqued.

"Duh," Dick says, "That's how he figured it out."

"Figure what out?" Jason asks.

"That Bruce was Batman." Dick stops abruptly. "No one told you?"

"Told me what?" Jason frowns.

"I used to follow Batman and Robin to take pictures," Tim says. He's not embarrassed about that. Besides, everyone knows. Everyone but Jason it seems. "I did it with Dick, but I did with you, too. Most of the ones I have are of you, actually. You as Robin… with Batman."

Thinking about it, there's no way for Jason to have known that. Things are better between them, but there's a tacit understanding that they don't talk about Jason's death, Tim's time as Robin, or Jason's first years as Red Hood. A minefield full of topics everyone likes to pretend don't exist.

"After you died," Tim goes on, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as Jason himself does when he speaks of his death, "Bruce lost it for a bit and—"

"I don't care. This has nothing to do with the present," Jason interrupts. Right, those minefields.

"Right, sorry," Tim says. "The point is, I like pictures best when people don't know I'm taking them."

Jason wiggles his forefinger at him. "Pretty sure stalking is against the law."

"Pretty sure killing is against the law, too," Tim snaps back. As if Jason has room to talk.

"I'm a reformed killer." Jason sounds absolutely unrepentant. "I haven't had a relapse in over two years. You, on the other hand, are a stalking stalker who still stalks, Peeping Tim."

"Jason!" Dick slaps his arm again.

"Ouch!" Jason rubs the skin dramatically.

"I wanted to take a picture of Dick in his home." Tim might as well come clean now. Then, he can go back to his place and feel miserable about ruining two of the best friendships he still had. "I thought it'd be nice. Dick is..."

Tim looks up and catches both Dick and Jason watching him. He swallows, and forces him to hold their gaze. "Dick was in the kitchen, doing dishes. I took my picture from the window. It was a good one. I should have left then. I was going to, but... Jason came into the kitchen with more dirty glasses. He put them on the counter and then he hugged you from behind. You turned and kissed him. And you two... it looked so beautiful. So natural. So perfect," Tim whispers the last bit.

He hadn't been able to stop himself. He took another picture, and another, and another. As if somehow he could capture the emotions with his camera. The desire. _The love._ They were so gorgeous together. They fit so well. Tim wanted to capture some of that love. Take it with him to watch later, when he needed the reminder that happiness existed. That it wasn't just a made-up-concept without any base on reality. 

"I didn't leave when I should. I watched you two make out and then..." Tim blushes. "That day you..."

"Had sex in the kitchen," Dick finishes for him, seemingly unperturbed. "I think I remember that night."

"Yeah." Tim swallows. "I just—I know it’s fucked up, okay? You don't have to tell me. I know it was wrong. But I just—I liked watching. I'd never... before. I didn't know. I wasn't prepared for how much I would like it. I've watched porn before and it never did that to me. I couldn't stop myself. I've had sex before, and it didn't feel as intense, as perfect as watching you did." He looks away. "I know it's fucked up," he repeats.

"You must be the perfect museum visitor," Jason mocks, "all look and don't touch."

Tim startles. It's a thrown-off jab, meant as a joke but it resonates with Tim somehow. He can't help but wonder if it ties down to his parents taking him to museums and archeological exhibits the few times they were in Gotham. His mom making Tim promise not to touch anything or they wouldn't take him again and Tim knowing deep down, for as long as he can remember, that valuable things, pretty things are not meant to be touched. Just looked at.

This is really not the time to be pondering if his fucked-up childhood might or might not have fucked-up his adult life as well. 

"I think I should go now." Just get it over with and leave.

"Don't," Dick says. "We need to discuss this."

"What's there to discuss?" Tim asks miserably. "What I did was wrong. I knew that and kept doing it anyway. There's a difference between taking one picture of you when you're not aware and..."

"Installing a bunch of cameras in our bedroom so that you can jerk off to watching us fuck?" Jason suggests with fake helpfulness when Tim trails off.

"Yes," Tim snaps, and the sighs, "Sorry." He has no right to be angry. He's the one in the wrong. "I'll move to New York," he offers. "For a while. I'll destroy the videos and—"

"What? No!" Dick protests. "No, to both. No New York and we want to watch the videos, too."

"Speak for yourself," Jason mumbles. "I don't want to watch them."

"But you will, because I want you to," Dick counters. "I want you to see how desperate you get, how pretty you beg for cock and pain and anything I want to give you."

Jason flushes beet red and looks down, embarrassed, but he doesn't protest. Jason... god, the things Jason lets Dick get away with. Tim's cock stirs a bit remembering them.

Tim doesn't know what to say. What does Dick want? "I'll give you the videos before I leave for New York. The Titans need me anyway and I—"

"You aren't leaving," Dick interrupts him.

Tim straightens without meaning to. It's hard to disobey Dick when he starts bossing people around. Jason is obviously not the only one who has trouble saying no.

"But I—" What does Dick want from him? "What do you want then? I overstepped. I want to make it right. I know I can't, but if there's something that I can do, I'll do it. Anything."

"What you did was wrong. Yes," Dick agrees. "But after I found out it was you behind the surveillance and after I got over my initial anger, I realized that I was a bit turned on, too." He shrugs, a little self-mocking smirk dancing on his lips. "What can I say? I've always been a bit of a showman. I like the idea of you watching me, watching us. And Jason," Dick grins turns downright evil, "Jason _hates it_. That only makes it better."

"It does?" Tim asks uncertainly. He knows they are into the whole BDSM thing. It made watching that much better, that much more irresistible. It got to Tim. Seeing the things Dick and Jason did together made him _crave_.

"Absolutely," Dick agrees. "My Little Wing hates to be put on display, and he hates that someone other than me has seen what a slut for cock he truly is."

"Shut up," Jason mumbles angrily.

"There's no need to front, Jay," Dick tells him condescendingly. "Tim has seen you."

Jason's face darkens and he refuses to meet Tim's eyes.

"Shit, you're turned on, too," Tim blurts before he can think better of it.

Jason shrinks on himself, and Dick laughs meanly. "Of course he is. I told you, he loves how much he hates it."

Tim's mind is working a mile a minute. He licks his lips, uncertain. "What—what is it you want then?" He asks Dick.

He's sure the two of them discussed this in advance. Probably where Tim's cameras couldn't see it. But for all that some of the things they do in bed are rough, Tim has also seen how carefully they negotiate everything first. If Dick is offering something—and Tim's getting the impression that he is—then Jason is on board.

Jason stands up abruptly. "I'll bring some water," he says and disappears into the kitchen, even though there's a pitcher of water still half full sitting on the table.

"Talking this out isn't really his forte," Dick comments, watching Jason go with a fond expression on his face.

"Uh…" Tim swallows nervously. "So... there's something to talk about?"

"There'll be conditions, of course," Dick says.

"Of course! Anything," Tim agrees. If there's even a remote chance to savage their friendship, Tim will take it.

"What you did is wrong, Tim," Dick says.

"I know. I know it's fucked up. I know," Tim whispers.

"Not the kink," Dick clarifies. "If you like to watch, you like to watch. That's nothing to feel ashamed for. But doing it without our permission? That's wrong."

"We do surveillance all the time," Tim points out weakly.

Dick arches a disbelieving eyebrow, and Tim shrinks in himself. Of course it's not the same. "Sorry. I... Yes, I know it's wrong. I won't do it again. I'll—Anything you want. Just tell me how I can make it better. _If_ I can make it better."

Dick exhales. "I don't really believe in rewarding bad behavior, but... You're damned lucky that our kinks align. You discovered that you like to watch, and we discovered that we like to be watched. We didn't know it either, and truth be told, it's not something we would have indulged in with anyone. The level of trust that requires—"

"Did I break your trust?" Tim realizes that he did. Before it was just—He hadn't been thinking. Maybe because deep down he knew that if he stopped to think, he would have to admit to himself how wrong everything he was doing was.

"You did," Dick agrees, and Tim feels small and miserable. "But," Dick goes on, "It's not as though we haven't hurt and betrayed each other before. With or without intention. You and Jason. Me and you. Jason and me." Dick snorts. "What makes us us, is that we forgive each other. Even the things that shouldn't be forgivable. It's probably not healthy, but let's face it, if we wanted healthy we wouldn't be doing the superhero thing."

If that's not the truth. "What does that mean, then? In this context. You forgiving me, now or eventually. I understand if you need time."

"We want to invite you to join us," Dick says.

Tim gapes, taken aback. That isn't what he'd been expecting. But maybe he should have? Dick did say that he liked being watched and... "Oh, god," Tim whimpers, overwhelmed and turned on by the idea of still being able to watch them. Of being _allowed_ to do it.

"Join you how?" Tim's voice comes out in a squeak. His head is spinning just imagining it. Dick can't be serious, can he? What if he is serious? He sounds serious.

"Is it the camera that does it for you? The videos? Or is it watching?" Dick sounds so natural, as if he's asking Tim what flavor of ice cream he wants to order.

"I don't know," Tim admits. "I tried really hard not to think too much about it."

Dick chuckles. "Another Jason, I see. Well, that's not gonna fly. If we do this, we do it right. Have you done any research on BDSM?"

"Some. Yes, I mean, I wasn't sure if you were hurting Jason. Well, obviously you were hurting him, but he seemed so happy afterwards and you... you talked things over and... Oh, this is talking things out in advance? With me?"

"Yes," Dick says. "Finally figured it out, did you?"

"Right." Tim swallows, and looks longingly to the kitchen. Maybe he can go help Jason get that water?

Dick sighs. "You don't have to say yes, if you don't want to, Tim."

"I want to!" The words are out before he can even think about them, his libido bypassing his rational mind with ease.

"You don't have to decide today. Take your time to think about it," Dick insists. "We just wanted to tell you that we know about the videos and would like for you to continue, but this time with all parties consenting first. Or is it the fact that we didn't know what got you hot?"

"No," Tim reassures him. "You not knowing made me feel terrible. Not terrible enough to stop obviously, but guilty and not in a good way. You really don't mind?"

"We mind the lying and would appreciate it if you didn’t do it again," Dick tells him. "But well, we were surprised about how much we didn't mind the rest of it."

"How did you and Jason...?" He makes a vague gesture with his hand, trying to encompass the whole BDSM thing. "Is it... How does anyone get into that?" It's something Tim has been curious about for a while.

"There are a lot of ways," Dick shrugs. "But for us it was more happenstance. We were investigating a human trafficking case. Young boys and girls being kidnapped on their way home, mostly in poor neighborhoods. Crime Alley in Gotham and all over Blüdhaven. Jason and I figured out that we were working the same case and joined efforts. The leads took us to a BDSM club in Blüdhaven and we went undercover."

Dick smiles, a wistful, fond expression brightening his face. "We were so over our heads. Spent a whole week fighting over who got to go as the Dom. Jason won. He fights dirty when he really wants something."

Tim frowns. "But Jason is your sub." Everything he's seen shows that.

"Absolutely." Dick chuckles. "Neither of us wanted to be the Dom. Jason because... That's his story to tell. But I didn't want to either. The idea of hurting him terrified me."

"You got over it," Tim says before he can think better of it.

Dick guffaws. "You could say that. I think one of the reasons it terrified me so much was because a part of me wanted it so badly and I couldn't admit it to myself."

Tim understands. "Yeah, I get that."

"Those were some of the best and worst weeks of my life," Dick admits. "It changed me. It changed _us_. We discovered things about ourselves that we hadn't known were there. Made some great friends, too. The traffickers were using the club to meet, but most of the club members didn't have anything to do with it. And they were so kind to us, so welcoming. Still, I wouldn't recommend working dangerous cases while you're having an existential crisis about your sexuality."

"An existential crisis?" Tim snorts.

"You try admitting to yourself that you get your rocks off by hurting others and humiliating and fucking them up physically, emotionally and mentally. And that the person you want to do it the most to is someone who a part of you still considers a brother. Believe me, it was an existential crisis alright. That realization challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that it was okay to like those things as long as I explored them with someone willing."

"Jason," Tim says.

"We are surprisingly kink compatible, or maybe not so surprisingly. Who knows?" Dick taps with his fingers on the table, fidgeting a bit. He's never been one for staying still too long.

"Anyway," he goes on, "we finished the mission and went our separate ways swearing never to talk about it again. I lasted nine weeks before I went back to the club. I just... I needed that particular release and knew I'd find people there who would help me scratch the itch. Imagine my surprise when I found Jason there. He'd become a regular, never stopped going after the mission finished. Jason might hate talking about stuff, and I have to force him more often than not to go through the negotiation and post-mortem for our scenes together, but he's always been braver than me when it comes to accepting the darker, more controversial parts of himself."

"Braver than most of us," Tim corrects.

"True enough." The look on Dick's face is totally smitten. 

Tim can't help but smile back a little. "What is it that you want from me?" he dares to ask. The idea of joining them both excites and scares him, which just makes him crave it more. Tim has always loved the shot of adrenaline that comes from forcing himself to do things that terrify him.

"Little Wing," Dick calls, "bring me the papers, baby."

"Don't call me that," Jason shouts from the kitchen. He walks back into the dining room a moment later and slams some paper in front of Dick. He eyes Tim warily. "You're in then?"

"Yes." Tim doesn't know what they want exactly, but no matter what, the answer is always going to be yes.

"Good," Jason says. "I'm gonna read my book. Call me when you're done, Dickface." He disappears again.

Tim arches his eyebrows in surprise. His eyes dart back to Dick. "Shouldn't you be making him be more polite or something?"

"Only if I want a rubber bullet in my gut, and I don't," Dick says. "Those things are a nightmare."

"But he lets you...," Tim trails off and blushes. He shouldn't remind Dick of what he knows, because then Dick will remember _why_ he knows.

"Your cameras were only in the bedroom," Dick points out. He's enjoying Tim's embarrassment. He's not even bothering to hide it. "We operate as equals outside of it. That works best for us. It'll apply to you too if you decide to join."

"Right," Tim gulps. "What does it mean? To join you?"

Dick pushes the papers towards him. "At first a bit of what you've been doing already, but this time you'll be in the room with us. Bring your favorite video of us over, and we'll watch it together while Jason sucks us off. Or if you'd rather only watch, then Jason sucks me off and you enjoy the double show."

Tim opens his mouth but no words come out. His heart is beating a mile a minute. His eyes dart to the papers and he sees words like 'bondage, pain, nipple play' and immediately looks away, face burning.

"I—I do want," he rasps out. "This list... are these things that you want me to do with you?"

"Depends on your answers. It's a list of potential things Jason and I would love to try, but also things we wouldn't mind doing, if you're into them. There might be some things in there that you don't feel comfortable trying, or maybe not comfortable enough yet. We can always revise it later if there's a later," Dick explains.

Tim watches Dick's face, trying to discern what the right answer needs to be to make sure there's a later. "Are there things that you want me to do?"

"Tim," Dick interrupts him, and his voice turns serious. "This isn't a test. There are no right or wrong answers. We can go through the list together and—"

"No!" Tim hurries to say. "I mean, I—" He can't do this with Dick watching him. He needs to do some research first. Proper research.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jason says, coming into the room. "You're over complicating everything."

"Weren't you reading a book?" Dick asks.

"I took pity on Timbers," Jason says, sitting down in front of him. "Bruce doesn't know how to talk, and you don't know how to shut up. It all adds to the same. Too much silence or too much noise, and yet nothing useful coming out of your mouth."

Tim inclines his head to hide his smile.

"Fine, then you do it." Dick crosses his arms and leans back.

Jason shrugs before he turns to Tim and narrows his eyes. "You were stealing food from our pantry and got caught. Instead of throwing you out and kicking your ass like we should have, we're inviting you to dinner. Because obviously you're starving and we're kind souls. And by kind I mean kinky. This is the fucking menu." He takes the papers from Dick and shoves them in Tim's direction. "Fucking in the literal sense," he adds with a grin. "Read it and tell us what you want to order. That's it."

"That's not it," Dick protests. "We have to explain to him—"

"He can do his own research. He's a Bat," Jason interrupts. "We did our research before going undercover. And yeah, reading about it isn’t the same, but I'm pretty sure Timbers would rather come at this knowing the basics. Do the work," he tells Tim, "and when you're done and ready to ask questions, invite _us_ to dinner."

"I don't know how to cook," Tim says feebly.

Jason rolls his eyes. "You're a loaded, Timbo, get a catering company or order take-away. Who cares? If you want this, you gotta work for it. And I'm not talking about food. It's an offer. You get to say no, which for the record, is more of a courtesy than anything you gave us. We sure as hell didn't get the chance to say no to your peeping ways."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Tim says.

"No, you're not. And if this goes the way we think it will, you're certainly not gonna be sorry any time soon. You're just lucky that Dick likes performing for an audience. What a surprise. Not."

"You like the idea, too," Dick defends himself.

"I hate the idea," Jason says. "Which is why we're doing it, I suppose, so you don't hear me complaining."

"That sounded like a complaint to me," Dick mumbles.

"Your life is a complaint," Jason snaps back. "Anyway, if you want Dick to over explain everything then I'm sure he'll be happy to do it. He loves to hear himself talk."

"I don't!" Dick protests, which is a lie. Jason isn't wrong.

"It's okay," Tim says, before the bickering gets worse. "I'd prefer to look at it by myself at first."

"Told ya," Jason sing-songs.

Tim and Dick both glare at him, and Jason's grin turns smugger.

Tim rolls his eyes and sighs. "Fine, yes, you're right. Don't let it get to your head or it won't fit inside your helmet. I'll look at it and then we can--Uh... have another dinner?"

"Whatever you prefer, Tim," Dick says. "But if we're done with this, it's time for me to beat your ass at Mario Kart."

"In your dreams," Tim shoots back automatically.

"And I'm out," Jason excuses himself. He's never been one for video games, much preferring to read a book while they play.

"You're missing out," Dick says.

"I'm so not," Jason says, and stands up. He hovers around, picking up the empty dishes, while Dick goes to set up the Nintendo. When Dick is out of ear shot, he leans over Tim and whispers in his ear. "You know how Dick said there's no right answer? He's lying. Twenty-three is definitely the winning ticket." He straightens, winks at Tim and leaves.

Tim swallows and looks at the papers nervously. He checks on Dick, who is still fumbling with the Nintendo. The papers contain a table with a list of kinks that goes on for over four pages. There are three empty columns with the titles _Experience yes/no_ , _Willingness to try No=0, Yes=5_ , and then _Notes_.

His eyes scan down the list, and his face reddens while he reads the words. Twenty-three is erotic photography. Tim's cock hardens so fast it's actually painful.

Jason is probably just messing with him. But oh, Tim _wants_. The idea of being able to get the right angles while Dick fucks Jason, the perfect lighting, the expressions on their faces. Tim didn't know how much he wanted that. The videos were okay, but the cameras were hidden and the angles weren't good. Besides, videos aren't the same thing as a proper _photo_. It takes skill to find the perfect moment and capture it forever, immortalizing it. The true challenge of photography. The art of it. Tim loves it.

"Saw something you like?" Dick asks and Tim jumps, caught by surprise.

He stares at Dick like a deer caught in headlights and shoves the papers away. "Yes, no, I mean, yes."

Dick's face brightens with amusement. "Got it," he grins. "Well, be sure to mark it down. Come on, let's play. You keep thinking about that list while I trash you."

Dick probably will trash him if Tim can't get his head away from the idea of photographing Jason and Dick in the bedroom. "Please, I can beat you at Mario Kart with one hand tied behind my back. Get ready to bite the dust."

"I'm getting ready to bite something alright," he says, and leers at Tim.

Oh, Dick is going to be impossible. He's seen Dick around some of his exes or even his currents. He loves to flirt and tease. And now that he feels he has permission to do it with Tim, he's not going to stop. Tim isn't sure if he can survive it, or if his Mario Kart winning streak will.

But, he's a Bat, like Jason said. He's good against impossible odds. And, maybe losing isn't something he would mind too much, when he has so much to gain, too.


	2. Chapter 2

This is it. Tim's a ball of nerves. It takes all he has not to fidget and sway on the spot. Or run away, really. He wants to run away. He wants to stay, too. He doesn't know what he wants.

Please, please, don't let his nerves screw everything up. Not that he knows who he's praying to. Is there god for people who like weird sex shit?

He can almost hear Dick's reassuring voice telling him that your kink is not my kink and all that bull. Dick's probably getting tired of repeating it. And Tim gets it. _He does_. But it still feels wrong somehow. A normal person shouldn't like what he likes. ' _When have we ever been normal?_ ' Jason said when Tim mentioned it. That more than Dick's rational explanation helped Tim through the worse of his nerves the very first time they played together.

Such a funny word, too. Play. It doesn't feel like a game at all. Being with Jason and Dick is the most important thing in Tim's life right now. He can't screw it up. Please, don't let him screw it up. 

This is the first time Dick has invited him to join one of their 'heavy play sessions' as Dick likes to call them. They've done some light things together, the three of them, but Tim knows they're still holding back. This time is different. Tim just needs to calm down before he implodes and screws everything up. 

"You okay over there, Timmy?" Dick asks him, snapping Tim back into the present.

He nods. Does he look too eager? Is it an okay nod? Tim's eyes are drawn to Jason and he almost forgets to breathe. God, Jason is gorgeous. He looks so calm, so confident, kneeling in front of Dick despite being completely naked. Tim and Dick are wearing all their clothes, but Jason doesn't seem bothered by it.

Tim wishes he could steal some of that confidence for himself.

Tim drinks in the view. Jason's body is a work of art. Even the scars criss-crossing his pale skin add to his beauty instead of taking away from it. Michelangelo and DaVinci would have paid money to have him model for them.

The low light of the room falls across his broad back, light and shadows dancing across the chiseled muscles of his chest and thighs. Tim suddenly remembers Lucinda hanging from his neck and picks her up. She makes the most beautiful photos, especially in low light. None of his other cameras come even close.

Jason's eyes are on Dick's, almost as though he has forgotten that Tim is there. Perfect. Tim snaps a photo of the two of them. Jason, naked and pale, a black leather collar around his neck that matches Dick's leather pants perfectly. Dick is wearing a dark blue shirt that shimmers like starlight. The cloth clings to the muscles of his arms and torso as snuggly as his Nightwing suit. 

Jason twitches when the shutter goes off and turns to Tim, startled. Tim presses the shutter release again, capturing the surprise on his face.

"Stop it!" Jason snarls at him.

Dick slaps him so hard that Jason loses his balance and has to catch himself with his hands. "Mind your manners, whore," he hisses, and kicks Jason when he tries to get up. He presses his boot on Jason's face, keeping him down on the floor. 

Tim lets go of Lucinda. He steps forward, his first instinct to defend Jason, and then stops himself. Right. Yeah. They did talk about this.

Dick shakes his head at Tim, and Tim freezes and swallows his protests. Jason has a safeword. They all do. If Jason wants things to stop, he can say it. Right.

Don't screw this up, Drake, he berates himself, and ignores the voice screaming that this is wrong, that he should _do_ something. It feels wrong, but that makes the desire inside Tim grow hotter. What does that say about him?

Nothing. It means nothing, he tells himself. It's just a kink. Kinks are okay as long as everyone is on board. He clings to Dick's words like a lifeline.

Dick waits for Jason to stop struggling before he takes his foot away. The tension in the room rises, and it's easy enough to see that Jason's fighting with himself not to retaliate. Tim can hear his breathing, a bit too fast, much too loud. 

The moment stretches like an eternity. "Kneel up and face Tim," Dick says at last.

Jason hesitates for a second before he complies, pushing himself up and shifting on his knees to face Tim.

"Spread your thighs," Dick orders.

Jason tenses and the muscles of his stomach and biceps tighten. He keeps his eyes lowered, out of respect or maybe he just doesn't want to look at Tim. He spreads his knees reluctantly, exposing his half hard cock. He's completely shaved, not just his groin but all of him including his thighs and legs. Tim's fingers twitch, aching with the desire to take another picture.

"Go ahead, Timmy, take a pretty picture of my doll," Dick tells him.

Jason lowers his head further, until his chin touches his chest, hiding his face.

Dick grabs a handful of Jason's hair and forces his head up. "None of that now, princess, look at the camera." Jason's blush deepens and he tries to tear his head away, but Dick's grip tightens further. "Jay, be a good doll and _look at the camera_ ," Dick whispers.

Slowly, Jason raises his gaze and meets Tim's eyes. His face twists with desperation and anger, flushed red with humiliation, and yet his cock is harder now than it was before.

"Tell him to touch himself." The words come out of Tim's mouth without any input from his brain.

Dick's grins widens. "Go ahead, princess, put on a show for Timmy," he tells Jason.

Tim snaps a picture of the angry glower Jason levels at him, and then another one of Jason's big hands closing hesitantly around his hardening cock. A close-up of the gleaming drop of precome gathering at the tip of Jason's cock while he strokes himself. A different angle captures Jason's face, torn between angry humiliation and obvious pleasure, and behind him, Dick, covered in shadows, except for the light catching on the cruel smirk on his lips, sharp and mean like the edge of a knife.

"Sir, please," Jason pants after a couple of minutes.

Dick hushes him, easing his grip on Jason's hair. "I know, baby. Just one more minute. Stroke yourself a bit faster. You can do it, baby. You're always such a good boy for me, of course you can."

Jason whimpers and shakes his head, but his hand speeds up anyway. The muscles of his thighs and stomach coil further and further and his strokes become almost a blur. "Sir, please, please, please, I can't," he beseeches, but doesn't slow down.

Dick crouches behind him, and kisses the side of Jason's neck. Then he twists and pulls at Jason's nipples cruelly while he continues to make shushing noises, telling Jason that he's doing well, encouraging him to go a bit faster still.

Tim snaps picture after picture. Dick's face is illuminated now, cruel and hungry, a sharp contrast to the gentleness of his words. Jason leans back against him, trembling, dark lashes clumping with unshed tears as he holds himself back from coming even though everything in his body must be screaming at him to let go.

"That's enough for now, babydoll." Dick pulls Jason's hand away from his cock and Jason whines, wet miserable whimpers escaping him as he pushes his hips into the air, cock hard and red and leaking.

Tim snaps another picture.

Jason is too far gone to notice, but Dick isn't. His eyes meet Tim's eyes and the smirk on his face widens. "Princess, turn around again. Face on the floor, ass up. Spread those gorgeous asscheeks and show Timmy that hungry hole of yours."

Tim's expecting Jason to protest, but he doesn't. He turns around, guided by Dick and _obeys_.

His hole is wet with lube, the skin pink and gleaming and oh so tempting. Tim wants to touch it so desperately. It fuels his arousal even more. 

"He prepared himself," Tim says to Dick. His voice comes out a bit strangled.

"Of course he did." Dick slaps Jason's thigh not so gently. "He's such a cockslut. You can't go a day without begging for a cock up your ass, ain't that so, princess?"

"Sir, please, yes, your slut." Jason raises his ass further up and spreads his asscheeks wider, as if that will convince Dick to use him.

"That's right, babydoll. You're my perfect slut," Dick praises him. "And now everyone will know it. Timmy is gonna show the whole world what a cock-hungry whore you are. It won't be our dirty little secret anymore. Everyone will know it."

Jason shudders and _moans_.

Dick's attention turns to Tim. "Take a picture of his hole before I wreck it."

Jason whimpers and pushes his ass further up, arching his back, as though he can't wait for Dick to make good on his word. 

After a brief hesitation, Tim moves closer to them. The musky smell of Jason's arousal is overpowering. He aims the viewfinder at Jason's ass, zooming in on the furled pink skin of his hole gleaming with lube.

"Finger yourself, princess," Dick tells Jason. "Show Timmy how much you crave it. Don't stop now, all the way in, whore."

Tim snaps a picture as Jason's thick, calloused fingers, press into his hole. The angle looks awkward and uncomfortable, but Jason pushes his fingers as deep as they can go without stopping to adjust just like Dick ordered him to.

"Look at that." Dick's voice drips with derision. "He's such a greedy bitch." He yanks Jason's hand away. "He can't let that hole of his stay empty for a minute. You should have seen him at the club, whoring himself out to anyone who'd take him." He brings his hand down on Jason's ass with a loud smack, again and again, until the skin starts to turn pink, the shape of Dick's handprints clearly visible.

Jason stays there and takes it. "Please, Sir, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he keens.

"Hush, baby." Dick soothes him and strokes the reddened skin of his ass lovingly. "I know you can't help yourself. That's why I took you in. Couldn't let my Little Wing whore himself out like a bitch in heat, now could I? You don't need to worry. Tim and I will keep that hole of yours stuffed all the time." He shoves three fingers into Jason's ass without warning and Jason groans and pushes back.

"Yes, Sir. Please, please, thank you, Sir." Jason thrusts back wantonly.

"Come here, Tim," Dick orders.

Tim looks up to Dick startled. His heart speeds up. There's a difference between taking pictures and well... Whatever it is Dick wants him to do. He has his safeword, he reminds himself, and holds on to that as he shifts closer, clutching Lucinda with his sweaty hands. 

"Do you want to touch him?" Dick asks, looking at him expectantly.

Tim wants to say yes. He doesn't want to disappoint Dick or Jason. He swallows nervously. "I—yes," he says faintly.

"Good, that's good. Jay loves to be touched, ain't that so, babydoll?" Dick coos at Jason.

"Please, Sir." Jason sounds needy and desperate, the defiant resentment from earlier completely gone. He shifts backwards, chasing the lazy thrusts of Dick's fingers into his ass.

Dick takes his fingers out and slaps the back of Jason's thighs hard. "Stay still, whore, I didn't give you permission to move, did I? God, you're completely useless."

Jason stills at once, the muscles of his thighs tensing with tension. A half-muffled, pathetic whimper escapes his lips. It's more a sob than a moan and when Tim looks down at him, he sees that Jason is biting his own forearm, trying to stop himself from making any more noises.

Tim can't see his face. "Is he crying?" he asks, fascinated. He's never seen Jason cry before.

Dick's face has a hungry wolfish look to it when he smirks at Tim. "Probably."

"I want a picture of that." Tim wants to see Jason's face, blotchy and red, cheeks wet with tears. His cock hurts with need. He shouldn't want it so much. He shouldn't, but oh does he ever.

Dick grabs Jason's hair and pulls him up at an awkward angle so that Tim can see his face.

It's even better than Tim imagined. Jason's hair is wet with sweat, curling on his forehead. His lips are swollen and red with teeth marks and there are tear tracks on his cheeks, just like Tim imagined there would be. But Jason's eyes surprise him. His pupils are blown wide, so dark that the green of the irises is barely visible. Jason looks lost in pleasure despite the tears on his face.

Tim moves forward as if in a trance and runs the back of his fingers along Jason's wet cheeks. Jason's mouths at Tim's fingers when they graze his lips and after a brief look at Dick to check if it's okay, Tim pushes them into Jason's hot, velvety mouth. Jason's tongue curls around his fingers and sucks them further in, greedy and noisily.

There's a low click and Tim looks up. Dick is holding up his phone, a smug, pleased twist to his lips. "You're not the only one who likes to take pictures, Timmy. The look on your face was something else."

Tim stomps the desire to ask Dick to delete the picture, all too aware of the hypocrisy. He loves photography but hates to see himself in photos. He can always get Dick's phone later and delete it himself.

Dick throws his phone carelessly on a far away armchair and smacks Jason's ass playfully. "Get on the bed, princess. Let's show Timmy what a greedy painslut you are."

Jason moans around Tim's fingers and lets them go with a wet pop. He crawls towards the bed, but hesitates in front of it. He looks back at Dick with a confused frown. "How, Sir?" His voice is a bit slurred, as though he's having trouble forming the words.

"Face down, ass up. You know how I like you, babydoll," Dick says in a soft and indulgent tone.

Jason climbs on the bed and places himself at the center, his ankles and feet dangling off the mattress, his ass raised up and his arms stretched in front of him reaching towards the headboard. His ass is at the perfect height for Dick to fuck him while he's standing, Tim realizes, and has to adjust his cock to relieve some of the pressure.

Dick rummages through a closet on the far side of the bedroom and comes back a moment later with a long red rope curled around his forearm and a mean looking black dildo, big enough to make even porn stars feel envious. He lost his shirt and shoes along the way and is walking barefoot on the plush carpet. The shirt didn't leave much to the imagination, but Dick's naked torso is even better. Dick has to know what the sight of him in tight leather pants and nothing else is doing to Tim. Of course he does. He's performing for his audience.

Tim wipes the spit on his fingers off on his trousers and raises Lucinda, aiming the viewfinder at Dick. Dick notices and smiles into the camera, placing a possessive hand on top of Jason's ass, like the proud owner of a well-trained circus animal. Tim hides his own smile behind Lucinda and presses the shutter release.

"You should definitely get a photo of this," Dick says as he starts pressing the dildo into Jason.

Jason grunts and spreads his knees wider, shifting away.

"Stay still, whore." Dick spanks him. "That's the second time tonight. And here I thought we could skip punishment for once, but you can't behave even in front of visitors."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Jason pleads. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. It hurts."

"It hurts, does it?" Dick mocks him. "How about now?" He shoves the dildo all the way in with a hard push.

Jason wails and falls on his front as he tries to get away from Dick. His head comes up from the mattress and his loud pants are peppered with little desperate whimpers that pull at Tim's heart and gut. He stays there, frozen, mouth gaping open, shivering, before he forces himself to assume his original position. He lowers his chest to the mattress and pushes up his ass, trembling with fear or pain or both. The black base of the dildo is almost as thick as Dick's wrist. It looks huge and obscene lodged into Jason's asshole, keeping his cheeks spread wide, unable to close. 

Dick slaps Jason again, right on top of the dildo. "I asked you a question, whore? Does it hurt now?"

"Yes, Sir, please, it hurts," Jason cries.

"Good." Dick pulls the dildo out all the way and slams it back in.

Jason keens and shudders, but doesn't move away, locking his muscles in place. Dick spanks him twice, before he takes the dildo out once more only to immediately ram it in.

Jason shifts away again and clutches the bedsheets, seeking something to hold on to.

"I told you to stay still, whore. Get your ass up."

"Please, Sir, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm trying, I'm trying, Sir. I'm sorry," Jason whimpers. The muscles of his arms and sides tremble. He braces himself and somehow manages to keep his ass up, even as Dick slaps him and fucks him with the dildo at a fast, brutal pace.

"Oh, babydoll, you truly are useless, aren't you?" Dick says when Jason collapses once more. He stops the punishing rhythm and pats Jason's red ass. "I know a stupid bitch like you can't do much right, but staying still? Really, Jason," he sighs, sounding disappointed. "You have to literally do _nothing_. How hard can that be?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Jason starts sobbing, loud and desperate and broken, as he pushes his ass up again.

Tim wants to go to him and stop everything. Should he use his safeword? But... Jason has a safeword, too, and he's not saying it. Tim stays frozen, torn with indecision. He must have made some kind of noise because Dick turns his attention to him. Tim feels like a bug trapped in a glass jar.

Dick narrows his eyes. "Come here, Tim," he orders.

Tim obeys. He doesn't know how not to when Dick uses his field voice like that. Dick takes Tim's hand and shoves it between Jason's legs without warning. Tim tries to move away but Dick's body is trapping him and his grip on Tim is too strong.

"Hush," Dick whispers in Tim's ear. "Feel how hard he is."

And Jason is _hard_ , painfully so. He's crying and trembling and "Sorry, Sir, I'm sorry," are the only coherent words coming out of his mouth, and yet he's hard. It doesn't make any sense.

"It's alright, Tim," Dick whispers, low enough that only the two of them can hear it. "He's alright. How about you? Is there something you want to say?"

Tim swallows. His fingers close around Jason's hard length. His cock is hot and swollen and wet. Does Tim want to stop? He shakes his head.

Dick kisses him on the check. "Alright. You're doing very well," he says in that same low voice. "It takes me usually way longer to get him to break like this. That's you being here, watching. It's getting to him so good. You've no idea."

Tim smiles back tentatively. He feels a bit shaken, but Dick's approval fills him with warmth.

Dick kisses him again, and pushes him away softly. Tim lets go of Jason's cock almost reluctantly and stays there, unsure what to do next. He doesn't want to take a picture of this. It seems wrong somehow. Too intimate. Jason is falling apart, and Tim hates the idea of anyone other than Dick and him ever seeing it.

"Hush, Little Wing." Dick moves to the front of the bed and pets Jason's head. "It's fine, baby. I'm gonna help you be a good boy. You want that, don't you?"

"Yes, please, Sir, please. I want to be good," Jason snivels.

"I know, Little Wing." Dick's voice is soft and loving and so warm. None of the mockery and derision from before. "I'm gonna help you, and then Timmy will see what a good boy I've got. Hush, don't cry, baby. It's gonna be fine."

Dick picks up the red rope and starts tying Jason up. He pulls Jason's arms closer to the headboard and ties his wrists together, before he continues curling the rope around his forearms all the way up to his elbows in an intricate pattern of knots that looks almost like lace work with how symmetrical it is. He hushes Jason as he works, petting and soothing him.

"That's it, baby, look how pretty you are all tied up for me." He continues to tie the rope around Jason's torso and then laces it around Jason's thighs, making it impossible for Jason to straighten his legs at all.

Bruce had taught all of them how to tie knots and even how to get out of them, but this has nothing to do with that. Bruce's technique had been practical and to the point. The rope work Dick is crafting around Jason's body looks almost like art. It's beautiful.

"You should see yourself, Little Wing. Do you want that, babydoll? Do you want to see what a good boy you are for me?"

"Yes, Sir," Jason agrees. He tries to shift, testing the bonds, but the knots tighten, keeping him in place.

Tim expects Jason to panic when he notices how helpless he is, but Jason _relaxes_ instead. The tension melts from his body and disappears. He's not even sobbing anymore.

"That's great, babydoll, I want you to see it, too. Ask Timmy to take a pretty picture of you, baby, so that you can see it later," Dick tells him.

Jason shakes his head against the mattress.

"Jay, baby, I thought you wanted to be good for me." Dick sounds disappointed.

Jason's breath hitches. "Yes, Sir," he murmurs.

"Then ask Tim to take a picture of you," Dick orders mercilessly, a hint of harshness coming back into his voice.

"Jason, ask." Dick punctuates the word with another hard spank when the silence stretches longer than he likes.

"Tim--"

Dick slaps him again. "Is that how you address your betters, whore?"

Jason shakes his head and trembles. "I'm sorry."

"Stop being _sorry_ and behave. Do you think Tim is gonna want to use an ill-trained whore without basic manners? I invited him here to show you off and you have done nothing but disappoint me."

Jason starts shaking again. "Please, I'll be better, Sir. Please, I'm sorry." He chokes on the last word and his voice breaks. He starts sobbing again.

"It's okay," Tim hurries to say. His own throat feels dry and he has to swallow twice before he can speak properly. "I don't mind. I don't."

"Well, you should," Dick says. He drags Jason's head up by his hair, forcing him into a painful arch that has his body straining against the ropes. "Let's try this one more time, bitch. What do you want to say to Tim?"

"Please, forgive me, Mister," Jason whimpers, sounding small and childlike.

Tim glances at Dick's face nervously and gets a tiny nod in response. It settles him enough to say, "Uh... I forgive you. Just don't do it again." He catches the amused little twitch in Dick's lips and cringes with embarrassment, aware that he's as much of a toy for Dick to play with as Jason. Both of them giving Dick exactly what he wants.

"It looks like you got lucky, whore," Dick tells Jason. "Tim is more indulgent than I would be. What do you say to that?"

"Thank you, Mister," Jason gasps when Dick's grip on his hair tightens further. "Thank you!"

"Tsk-tsk. And?" Dick prompts.

"Please, Mister, take pictures of me?" Jason tells him, but his eyes dart back to Dick immediately, gauging his reaction.

"What type of pictures, Little Wing?" Dick drags Jason's head further up, but he's using the same soft, soothing tone from before.

Jason's face crumples. "Pretty pictures," he adds in a low whisper, not meeting Tim's eyes.

"Do you want me to take photos of you all tied up and begging for cock, boy?" Tim hears himself say. It sounds wrong and weird. Fake. But Jason shudders and moans and Dick's eyes darken.

"Yes, Mister," Jason says. "Please."

"That wasn't so hard now, was it, Little Wing?" Dick bites the side of Jason's jaw before dropping his head back to the bed. "Stay there, pet. You're going to take your punishment like a good boy and you won't disappoint me again tonight, will you?"

"No, Sir, no. Thank you, Sir, thank you," Jason swears.

"Hush," Dick pats his ass. "No more words. I only want to hear you moan, cry or scream." He twists the dildo roughly, shifting it left and right while thrusting in and out Jason's ass.

He pulls the most delicious noises from Jason while Tim walks around the bed, taking his pictures.

The rim of Jason's ass clinging to the dildo whenever Dick pulls it out, thin and white under the stretch, a contrast to Jason's reddened cheeks and the black, shiny plastic of the toy.

Dick loosening his belt pants and pulling it free. His hands, usually so nice and loving, folding the thick belt in two, holding the buckle and the tip together and swinging it hard against the bed to test it.

The cruel twist to his lips when he says to Jason, "Forty strikes, ten for every infraction. Think you can take that for me, princess?"

Jason nods eagerly, and his hands clench and unclench in anticipation as he braces himself.

Click. Click. Click. The two of them ignore him, and Tim likes it best that way. He doesn't have to think or process or worry about how wrong this all ought to feel. How right it does instead. All he has to do is aim Lucinda at them and take picture after picture.

Dick trails the edges of the belt over Jason's back and Jason's tenses. Dick pulls the belt away and when he brings it down again it's just as soft as it was before. He chuckles when Jason twitches. "Eager bitch."

He repeats the pattern a couple of times, raising the belt and bringing it down, but never hitting Jason the way he's obviously dreading. Tim is as anxious as Jason, silently waiting for that first true hit to come.

Without warning, Dick's next strike comes down hard, yanking a surprised cry out of Jason and making Tim jump and drop the camera. The neck strap stops Lucinda from falling and Tim is thankful for it. 

"One," Dick says and goes back to the teasing caresses with the belt.

Jason tenses again, his breaths coming out in loud little puffs. He forces himself to relax. Tim recognizes some of the techniques Bruce taught them.

When Dick hits Jason again, he seems to be expecting it because he doesn't scream. "Two," Dick says, and then follows suit with four more strikes, one right after the other, not even pausing to count. "Six," he says when he's done, and goes back to trailing the belt over Jason's ass.

Jason's ass had been pink from the spanking but now angry belt marks start to rise. Six dark red, broad lines, criss-crossing each other. They look painful. Really painful.

Tim swallows nervously when he catches the expression on Dick's face. There's an intensity to him that he's never seen outside of missions, and it seems wrong on Dick's unmasked face.

Tim focuses the viewfinder on Dick and presses the shutter release again and again whenever Dick's hits Jason. Jason's second cry, more a grunt than a real cry, comes at the count of fifteen. After that first initial shout he'd weathered the onslaught silently. Dick's face ripples with pleasure and he strikes again. Harder. 

Tim studies that micro-expression, frozen forever in the camera display, and it scares him. Dick is enjoying this. Tim knew that, of course. _Dick told him_. But Tim hadn't understood what it meant, not really. Dick's expression wouldn't be amiss on a rogue's face and that is terrifying. To see that darkness exposed, without masks or costumes to hide behind.

Dick, one of the kindest people Tim knows, being cruel and brutal and enjoying every second of it.

Thirty-one breaks Jason's skin. Small droplets of blood gathering at the edge of the belt mark, bright red and wet. The screams are being torn from Jason one after the other, and Dick's sweating with the strength of the strikes. Tim expects him to stop, to at least check on Jason to make sure that he's alright, but Dick goes on, undeterred, all the way to thirty-five.

Tim's about to put a stop to it, use his safeword if Jason won't use his. It's too much. It's too much. But Dick stops before Tim can gather the courage to actually say the word.

"Little Wing, you're doing so well." He walks closer to Jason and caresses his sweaty hair.

Jason is choking on his sobs, but he presses his head into Dick's caress as if Dick is his savior, instead of the person hurting him.

Dick crouches next to him and gently turns Jason's head towards him. "Think you can take the last five, baby?" Dick asks, voice soft. "You have permission to talk."

Tim feels invisible. Unseen and unnoticed. An unwelcome intruder witnessing something he never should have. It hurts and yet he's strangely at peace with it. Tim's used to not having the love others do. Just knowing it exists is enough.

"Please," Jason sobs, and Tim doesn't know if he means yes or no with that word.

"Alright, five more then," Dick says to Tim's dismay.

"Thank you, Sir," Jason whispers, and he sounds _thankful_.

Dick gets back in position and raises his arm. "Thirty-six," he counts and strikes. The crack of leather hitting flesh echoes in the room followed by Jason's scream. "Thirty-seven," Dick says and brings the belt down again.

"Please, Sir, please." Jason pants are wet and desperate.

"I know, baby, I know," Dick soothes him. "Three more and then you may come."

Tim barely has time to feel confused when Dick strikes. Once. Twice.

Dick adjusts his grip on the belt and moves a step away. "Come for us, whore!" He orders, and brings the belt down right over the base of the dildo and the back of Jason's balls. 

Jason screams, the shout ripped from his lungs, and arches his head back, straining against the ropes. His muscles spasm and contract fighting the bonds, but the knots tighten further keeping him in place. Trapped. Helpless. At Dick's mercy. The scream echoes through the room. It pierces Tim's heart. He feels nauseous. The pain most be unbearable. This isn't... They didn't talk about _this_.

Jason slumps, panting, supported only by the red ropes. Tim's eyes dart to his balls, terrified that they might be bleeding, too. Dick didn't hold back. He didn't. Between Jason's knees, the bedsheets are wet, not with blood but with come. The last drops are still falling from Jason's twitching cock.

"Did he just...?" Tim trails off, unable to believe that Jason came, cock untouched, from a _belting_.

Dick's eyes meet his and Tim shudders at the dark, pleased look in them. "Yes, absolutely. It takes some effort to get him there, but once he's there... Jay loves pain." He throws the belt on the floor and beckons Tim closer.

Tim moves forward nervously and allows Dick to reposition him right in front of Jason's ass. "Do you want to fuck him?"

"He's going to be too sensitive," Tim points out.

He can feel Dick's amusement stretching like a lazy cat. "Yes, exactly. So?"

Jason's ass is bright red, tiny drops of blood are seeping from some of the worst marks, but his balls aren't bleeding, just red and slightly swollen. Dick must have been careful after all, even if it didn't look like he was. Still, Jason won't be able to sit or move comfortably for a couple of days. Tim wants to touch the marks. Brushing against that burning skin must feel amazing, but he's too worried about hurting Jason further. Even if Jason likes it. How can Jason like it?

Tim shakes his head, still mesmerized by the marks on Jason's skin.

Dick snorts. "You really prefer to just watch, huh?"

Tim hunches his shoulders, and his stomach twists, a sinking feeling in his chest that leaves him feeling small and off.

"Hey," Dick whispers in his ear. "It's alright, Timmy. I like that. Nothing to feel bad about."

The words should help, but they don't. Tim still feels uncomfortable. Dick must notice somehow. He's always been good at reading Tim. He turns Tim around until they are facing each other and puts his forefinger beneath Tim's chin, forcing him to look up and meet Dick's eyes.

"It's truly alright. Do you want to stop? Slow down some?"

Tim shakes his head, feeling stupid and yet unable to help it. He's ruining it. They've discussed everything in advance and now Tim is ruining it anyway.

"If you want to say your word, this is the moment." Dick pauses and when Tim remains quiet he leans forward and presses his lips to Tim's. It's a chaste kiss, just a soft brush of lips. He retreats just enough that their lips are only a breath apart.

Tim leans forward, closing the distance. Dick's lips grin against his before the tip of Dick's tongue pushes in, deepening the kiss. Tim parts his lips with a sigh and yields. There's a part of him, small and excited, screaming in the back of his mind, 'He's kissing you. Dick is kissing you.' But soon it, too, quiets down, and all he can do is feel and kiss back.

It ends too soon. Dick presses his forehead against Tim's as they catch their breaths.

After a moment, Dick kisses the tip of Tim's noise and asks, "Better?"

"Yeah," Tim admits. It's true. How did Dick know the kiss would help?

"Good." Dick ruffles Tim's hair and lets go. "I need to see to Jason, but do get some pictures if you want."

Dick goes to the bed and leans over Jason. "Hey, Little Wing, you took that so beautifully. How are you feeling?"

"Great, Sir," Jason says, voice rough. "Can take more if you want. Anything you want, Sir. Please."

"The punishment is over, Little Wing." Dick caresses Jason's face. "You did good. All is forgiven."

"Thank you, Sir. Thank you. Want to be your good boy."

Tim frowns. Jason sounds truly out of it. Not in a bad way, just... almost drunk? Tim doesn't remember the last time he'd seen Jason so relaxed. He's not fighting or struggling, just lying there, letting the ropes do the work of holding him.

Dick kisses Jason, and bites his bottom lip, pulling at it slowly before letting go. "You _are_ my good boy, Little Wing. So perfect. You've got no idea." Dick brushes the wet bangs of hair clinging to Jason's forehead aside. "I'm gonna fuck you now, and I want you to come a second time for me. Think you can do that, princess?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Dick kisses him once more and trails his fingers down Jason's back until they reach the abused skin of his ass. He kneads the flesh there and Jason moans, pushing back into Dick's hand as much as the ropes allow. "Please, Sir, hurts soooo gooooood."

Dick chuckles and digs his fingers into the flesh. "God, Little Wing, what your body does with pain is amazing." He opens the fly of his leather pants, and takes his cock out. It's red and hard, a bit wet with precome.

Tim licks his lips. Okay, maybe he wants to do more than just look. Next time. If there's a next time. If he didn't screw it up.

Dick pulls the dildo out of Jason and drops it on the bed. He pushes in in one thrust until his hips are flush with Jason's buttocks. Jason shudders and his breath hitches.

"Fuck, Little Wing, you're so loose. Sloppy and wet, like a well used cunt." Dick groans. "Yeah, that's it, tighten up for me, princess." He moves in fast, sharp thrusts, holding Jason by the hips and pushing against him.

"Aren't you gonna take pictures of how I use my whore, Timmy?" Dick asks, turning to look at him and Tim snaps from his mesmerized contemplation.

It takes him two tries to get the camera dangling from his neck into position.

"Come on, Timmy, tell us what you're seeing? Do you like it?"

"Yes," Tim squeaks, his voice a bit strangled. He's thankful for Lucinda and the chance to hide behind her. Dick probably wants to hear more than that, but Tim has forgotten how to make words. "You—" he swallows and tries again, "You look good together. Jason with the ropes, tied, at your mercy, and you using him. It's ... I like it." How lame is that? Tim cringes inwardly.

But Dick doesn't seem to mind. He beams at Tim. "Of course you do." He speeds up his thrusts, chasing after his orgasm. "Come on, princess, tighten that cunt of yours. Now, bitch! Come!" Dick digs his fingers into the worst of Jason's marks and rakes down the skin as he pushes forward. Jason screams and his muscles spasm as he comes again.

Tim crouches close to them, zooming the lens in on Jason's face. Eyes closed, sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead, his mouth open and panting, pink tongue lolling out while his face is scrunched with pleasure or pain or both.

"Yeah, just like that, Little Wing," Dick murmurs, pressing himself against Jason's ass before he, too, is coming, silent where Jason was loud.

Tim snaps another picture. The expression on Dick's face is the perfect addition for Tim's private collection. He has photos of Dick laughing, training, fighting, talking to friends, eating, sleeping, cooking, even training with the kids in the gymnastic classes. He has many of Dick in uniform, back when he still was a cop, sometimes angry, sometimes pleased. He has pictures of Dick as Robin and as Nightwing and even some from his stint as Batman. Tim's favorite is one of Dick's dressed as a cop, in which he looks scared. It's the only time Tim has ever managed to capture fear on Dick's face. But Dick's face in the throes of orgasm might trump even that one. He's so unguarded, lost in his pleasure, unaware of everything else.

That's it. As Tim presses the shutter release he suddenly knows that he got the perfect shot. It's a feeling in his gut, a certainty, developed in over a decade as a photographer. This one is going to turn out fantastic. He just knows it.

"That was gorgeous, babydoll," Dick says as he slips out of Jason. He pats Jason's side like one would a horse. "You did so well. Just a little bit longer, princess. Can you stay perfect and obedient for me a bit longer?"

Jason nods against the bedsheets.

Dick leans closer and kisses his forehead, wiping some of the tears on his cheeks with his fingers. "Come on, Little Wing, use your words." His voice is soft and cajoling.

"Y-yes, Sir," Jason whispers hoarsely.

"Good, that's good. You're so good for me, baby." Dick kisses him again and then straightens, turning his attention to Tim. He beckons with his fingers for Tim to come closer.

Tim is strangely aware of Lucinda's heavy weight in his sweaty hands as he takes the four steps separating him from Dick. The moment seems to stretch forever and at the same time be over much too soon. Tim's suddenly standing next to Dick, nervous and uncertain.

Dick takes the camera from him, pulling the strap over his head and throws Lucinda onto the armchair on the corner without any care. Tim makes a low hissing sound because that's his best camera. If Dick breaks Lucinda… Dick captures Tim's chin between his fingers and forces Tim to look back to him.

"You're going to get your cock out, and you're going to jerk off while I watch and then you're going to come all over Jason's back." Dick's words send shivers down Tim's spine and his gut curls with pleasure and anxiety. The emotions feed on each other, impossible to separate. Tim's cock twitches and aches inside the confines of his trousers, suddenly reminding Tim that it _is_ there and it wants attention.

"I—"

Dick puts his hand over Tim's mouth, silencing him. "The only word that may come out of your mouth is the word we agreed on. Otherwise, you stay silent and obey. Do you understand, Timmy?"

Tim's breath hitches and his heart speeds up. His eyes dart to Jason, to Jason's _hole_ , leaking Dick's come, and gaping a little bit from all the heavy use. The idea of jerking off on Jason's back, of painting white over the angry red marks from the belt make him queasy with desire. It's too much. More than he can deal with. He feels overwhelmed and uncertain and terrified and yet, he _wants_.

And Dick is giving him permission to want, is ordering him to. Tim nods against Dick's hand and Dick smiles at him, that beaming smile that gets to Tim like nothing can.

Tim's lips feel bereft when Dick takes his hand away, but he remains silent as ordered. His fingers tremble a little as he fumbles with the buttons of his trousers. Dick steps away and sits on the bed next to Jason, leaning his back on the headboard. He threads his fingers through Jason's hair and pets him while he watches Tim.

Dick stops him with a shake of his head when Tim starts to take off his trousers. "Nah, just get your cock out and jerk off. That's it." His eyes are dark and hungry as they zero on Tim's cock. "Be careful where you aim, Timmy," he says offhandedly, "if you get come on these leather pants I'm gonna be very cross."

That freezes Tim. Dick's long legs are resting flush to Jason's bound form, and the chances that Tim might get come on them are quite high. His hand feels clumsy as he starts moving it slowly up and down his aching length.

"Faster," Dick snaps.

Tim obeys without even thinking about it. Dick keeps giving him orders. "Slow down." "Twist and squeeze." "Pull at your balls." "Play with the head." "Faster, come on, faster!"

At some point Tim's hand stops feeling like his own, and feels more like an extension Dick's will. Tim has no control over the rhythm and no way to predict what will happen next. It's nothing like jerking off. He has his routine that gets the job done fast and efficiently. Tim knows what he likes, but there's no element of surprise to it. This is nothing like that.

Tim pants and groans, all too aware of Dick's eyes on him. He's embarrassed by the desperate noises escaping him, but he has no way to stop himself.

"Dick," he moans, when it becomes obvious that he's about to come.

"Shut up!" Dick snaps. "I told you not to talk. I was gonna let you come, you know, but maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should leave you like that. Hard. Aching. Hungry."

Tim shakes his head. He bites the back of his free hand to stop himself from saying something stupid like 'please.' Dick isn't kidding; he might leave Tim just like this. He imagines it and shudders, and something in him twists and tightens, the desire spiking even higher.

"Well, well, well," Dick says meanly, sounding pleased. "You like that. What a dirty little boy you are, Timmy."

Tim shakes his head. He doesn't like the idea. He _doesn't._

"Let go of your cock," Dick orders.

Tears prickle at the corner of Tim's eyes and he shakes his head in denial. He is so close. He can't stop now. He _can't_.

"Tim. Let. Go," Dick repeats, the warning clear.

Tim obeys, even though it feels like he's tearing himself apart to do it.

"Get on the bed," Dick orders.

Tim walks over as if pulled by strings, like he's a puppet and Dick the puppet-master. He stops briefly at the foot of the bed, before he kneels on the mattress, shifting closer to Dick and Jason. Jason doesn't even acknowledge him. His eyes are closed and his head is pressed against Dick's hip, as close to him as the binding allows.

"That's good. I think I want you to stay like this. A bit desperate, a bit unsatisfied, aching for release and not getting it," Dick says to Tim. "That would please me very much, and if you agree, you can share the bed with us tonight and tomorrow morning I'll have Jason suck you off. He's really good with his mouth, you know."

Tim does know. Jason hasn't done it to him yet, but he's seen Jason suck Dick off. He has seen how much Dick loves it. Tim wants that.

"Or you come now, but then you get to sleep in the guest room and there's no morning sex. At least not with us. So, what will be? You may answer."

Tim clutches at his thighs, digging his fingers into his flesh to get his brain to start working. He can't think. He wants to come so badly. But he wants what Dick is offering, too. To sleep with them, to be there with them in the morning, to _please Dick_.

"Wait," he gasps. "I want to wait," he repeats and then starts crying, because it's hard. It's so hard and it feels as if his chest is going to explode with how many emotions are swirling through him. He's drowning in them. He feels stupid and childish. Why is he crying? He's nineteen years old. He's a superhero. Why is he crying?

"Oh, Timmy," Dick says and moves to him. He hugs Tim and kisses the top of his head, pulling him closer.

Tim clings to Dick and sobs harder, unable to help himself. He's still aroused and aching, but suddenly it feels far away and unimportant. All that matters is Dick holding him and whispering that it's gonna be alright, and that Tim has done so well, and that he's perfect.

After a moment Dick eases away from him and helps Tim lie down next to Jason. He's dimly aware of Dick releasing Jason's bonds and massaging Jason's wrists and joints, helping him to uncurl from his half-kneel and making him lie down on his stomach. It's happening right next to him. Dick keeps brushing against Tim as he works, but it all feels distant and disjointed.

Dick's hand is on his cheek, soft and tender. "Can you hold Jason for me, Timmy?" he asks. "I need to get some supplies from the bathroom and he hates being left alone."

Tim nods on autopilot and when Dick pushes him closer to Jason, he opens his arms and lets the older boy burrow into him. Jason is massive, certainly larger and heavier than Tim but he still curls in on himself, trying to make himself small enough to fit into Tim's arms. He hides his head in the crook of Tim's collarbone and rests there. Tim's arms close automatically around him. He feels some of the welts on the skin of Jason's back, hot and swollen and tries to stay clear of those, bringing his hand to Jason's hair and petting it like he saw Dick do it.

Jason sighs happily. "'s good," he mumbles against Tim's neck and relaxes against him.

Dick kisses the back of Jason's head and Tim's forehead and whispers, "I'll be back in a second."

Tim watches him disappear into the bathroom door and feels suddenly bereft and lonely. He almost wants to call for Dick to come back, but that's stupid. Dick is right there and Tim isn't a small child.

He pulls Jason's closer to him, glad for the other boy's presence. At least Jason is there, and that's okay. That's good. Dick told him to hold Jason, so Tim does that until Dick comes back with wipes and some type of cream.

He sits on the bed and starts cleaning Jason, his ass first, and then he disinfects his back and puts the cream on the welts. Tim's too out of it to really track what it is, and he closes his eyes for a bit as Dick works, feeling safer now that Dick is back, content under the weight of Jason's body half on top of his. It feels good, being there with them. Nice.

He dozes off at some point without noticing and only comes back to himself when Dick shakes his shoulder gently. "Come on, Tim, we need to get you out of those clothes. Help me."

Tim lets Dick manhandle him out of the bed. He frowns when he notices that his shoes and socks are already gone. When did that happen? Groggily, he gets out of his trousers and t-shirt, slipping into some pajamas that are too big on him. Probably Dick's. If they were Jason's, Tim would disappear in them. The smell of clean laundry is homey and familiar. The same detergent that Alfred uses. When Dick pushes him back onto the bed, Tim goes easily, pressing back against Jason as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jason is completely conked out. He doesn't stir at all when Dick puts the covers over them. Dick slips onto the bed behind Tim, sandwiching him between Jason's massive bulk and Dick's frame. Tim's cock has softened again, but he feels odd. He can sense the desire to come like the ghost of a thought at the back of his mind. And yet, he's strangely okay with it. His mind is sluggish and quiet. All the thoughts constantly whirling around in his head gone. It's almost as if he's been drugged.

That should worry him, but he doesn't have enough energy to worry about it. And when Dick whispers against his ear, "It's alright, Tim. I'm here now. Sleep," Tim does what he's done the whole evening.

He obeys.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! ❤️


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